


Devout

by porcelainepeony



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: Ficlet, M/M, request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-14 18:34:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13595922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/porcelainepeony/pseuds/porcelainepeony
Summary: “You’ll do anything for me?” Revolver questioned time and again, almost as if testing Spectre’s devotion and loyalty.Knowing very well he would fight, burn, even die for Revolver, Spectre always nodded, supplementing his sworn allegiance with a slight bow and an echo of the words, “I’ll do anything you wish, Revolver.”





	Devout

Word Count: ~830

Notes: Drabble/fulfilling a request! Sorry, I translated this really fast, so it might have errors.

Set after Spectre runs away with his knight in shining armor (there’s a pun there, ya know /shot) but right before canon I guess.

xxx

“You’ll do anything for me?” Revolver questioned time and again, almost as if testing Spectre’s devotion and loyalty.

Knowing very well he would fight, burn, even die for Revolver, Spectre always nodded, supplementing his sworn allegiance with a slight bow and an echo of the words, “I’ll do anything you wish, Revolver.” That was Spectre’s answer for years, words bordering between obsessive and adoring, heart eagerly fluttering in his chest like the wings of a captured butterfly. Spectre would, in fact, do anything for Revolver, even if it meant putting his life on the line. After all, he owed Revolver everything, for without him, Spectre’s world would have remained as dark as the bottom of the ocean and as empty as his birth mother’s heart.

“Anything?” Revolver asked that particular day, tilting his head slightly to the side.

The question severed the usual silence that followed their exchanges, and not even the darkness of the room, illuminated only by one faint computer screen and the dripping sunset cascading past curtains, could mask Spectre’s bafflement. It was the first time Spectre’s allegiance was doubted, though there wasn’t any inclination of distrust in Revolver’s question. Instead, when Revolver turned around and met Spectre’s gaze, all Spectre could see was amusement spiked with curiosity. Spectre’s heart skipped a beat, twirling in place as his mouth opened to answer.

“Yes,” Spectre affirmed, voice fading into the shadows as Revolver took a step closer.  

Spectre’s eyes widened slightly, yet he remained still, as if Revolver’s movement caused his body to solidify. For as close as he fancied himself to Revolver—after all, he was the Knights of Hanoi’s second-in-command—Spectre hadn’t anticipated Revolver’s question, let alone Revolver’s sudden urge to invade his personal space. In fact, Spectre hadn’t been able to foresee Revolver’s actions at all that night, and it was made especially obvious when Revolver held out his hand.

Spectre stared at said hand, unsure if there was something Revolver wanted him to hand over or if, instead, he wanted Spectre to--

“Your hand,” Revolver echoed Spectre’s thoughts.

Warmth powdered Spectre’s cheeks, the thought of placing his hand over Revolver’s tickling his insides with fanatical delight. Yet nothing could prepare him for the electricity that traveled up his arm upon touching his fingers to Revolver’s.

Immediately, Revolver pulled Spectre close, stopping only when their arms interfered and prevented their bodies from colliding. “In the months to come,” Revolver murmured, “don’t leave my side.”

The request was simple enough, one Spectre understood and wholeheartedly accepted. The heat from their joined hands and the warm breath tickling Spectre’s lips, however, did nothing to keep his voice from trembling as he attempted to answer his liberator. “I won’t,” Spectre whispered, gaze melting into Revolver’s. “I’ll do whatever it takes to secure our victo--”

“Spectre,” Revolver sighed, offering the blue-eyed youth a rare and almost pouty frown.

As his voice faded, Spectre couldn’t help but note the way the dimmed light reflected off alabaster locks. His thoughts, however, couldn’t linger on trivialities and, instead, Spectre found himself questioning what Revolver truly wanted of him. Didn’t Revolver want him to succeed on every mission? To be a competent duelist? To stand by his side when victory was achieved?

When their hands failed to part and the warmth between them flourish, Spectre added, “As I said earlier, I’ll do as you please, Revolver.”

No matter how much Spectre had observed Revolver over the years—no matter how much he had memorized the way Revolver moved, the way his eyes hauntingly caught the light, the way his hair flared erratically after a long night’s sleep—Revolver’s next words caught Spectre entirely off guard.

“Kiss me.”

Repeating the words in his mind, Spectre had to wonder if Revolver was being serious in his request. But joke or not, Spectre found himself obeying, leaning in, pausing only briefly to meet Revolver’s gaze.

Eyes drifted shut. Lips touched. Molded. Fused. Revolver’s free hand slowly slid up Spectre’s neck, bringing with his touch a burst of goosebumps and shivers. Fingers gingerly wrapped around the base of Spectre’s neck, while a soft moan disappeared between their lips.

The intimacy was short lived.

Breaking away, Revolver released Spectre’s hand and turned to face the computer screen behind him.

A pang of jealousy struck Spectre’s heartstrings, and he found himself wishing Revolver’s gaze would spend more time melting into his than staring at meaningless screens. Moving a hand, hovered his fingers above lips, the ghost of their kiss lingering, the heat from their touch imprinted into skin. Spectre could sense the change in atmosphere, and as much as he would have liked for Revolver to continue to question his commitment, Spectre knew Revolver was set on completing other tasks. Letting his fingers fall away, Spectre brought his hand to his chest and laid it across his drumming heart.

“I’ll always do as you please, Revolver,” Spectre repeated, words soft but heavy. Spectre knew Revolver had heard his voice, but he doubted the leader of the Knights of Hanoi would ever truly understand the devotion that laced Spectre’s every breath.


End file.
